


Little Things

by nevereverever



Category: Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:10:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9480581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereverever/pseuds/nevereverever
Summary: It was always the little things. Good or bad, just those silly little things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Umm... I read these books as a kid and then the show and I remembered how much I love these babes. Enjoy!

The little things got to them. 

The day Sunny came home crying after her instructor had gotten mad at her when she wouldn't touch the mushrooms they were meant to prepare. Klaus and Violet wrapped themselves around her. It can't hurt you, they assured.

The day Bea had a school play, and Violet flinched at the door to the theater. Determined, she grabbed Klaus’s hand and squeezed. She wasn't afraid of him anymore. She was strong.

The play was lovely, and if Violet had to excuse herself to vomit at intermission, that was neither here nor there.

That night, Klaus found his older sister curled into the corner of her bed, shaking and crying. Her shoulders were hunched in and her hair was splayed across her face. He approached her with caution and perched lightly at the edge of the bed.

She looked at him, scared, her eyes like they were on that stage. 

“Vi?” He asked quietly, desperately trying not to scare her. He was scared too, but he didn't show it.

“Please don't hurt me.” Violet whispered, barely audible and full of anguish, a word which here means “immense pain and fear.” Klaus frowned and felt tears prick his eyes at the thought of his sister on that stage all those years ago. He swallowed his tears hard.

“I'm not going to hurt you. It's just me, Klaus. He’s not here. He’s dead Violet, he can't hurt you anymore. I promise.” Klaus inched forward and put a hand on her back, drawing her into reality.

“He can't hurt you Violet. You are safe. I am safe. Sunny and Bea are safe.” Klaus said, his voice still different in the way it only was when he was comforting his siblings.

The day Klaus started hyperventilating during an eye exam. His heart pounded in his chest and his sharp fast breaths set an uneven pace. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

He told the doctor some lie and rushed home, chest still pounding. He went home. Home is a place I have now, he reminded himself as he slid down the cool wood of their front door.

He made dinner. Talked to Violet after Bea and Sunny went to bed. Breathed.

It was things even smaller.

Sunny had nightmare every now and again, but for Violet and Klaus they were near constant. Unfortunate events played and replayed and replayed and replayed in their heads. No escape.

Their apartment was small. Beatrice had her own room but the Baudelaires all slept in the same room, partially for nights when the littlest things, dreams, overwhelmed them.

Some nights, Klaus would thrash like someone was holding him down. He would shake and fight. On those nights, there wasn't much his siblings could do but run their fingers through his hair until he resurfaced.

There were nights when Violet would wake up sobbing and wouldn't stop for hours. On those nights, as much as they hated sharing one bed, Sunny and Klaus would curl around Violet and shush her until she could fall asleep again.

There were nights when Sunny would wake up unable to breathe and the only thing that could calm her down was the smell of horseradish and soft words of reassurance from her siblings.

It was the little things. But there were good little things too.

Watching Bea grow up unafraid, if a little unorthodox. Seeing the first lights of day stream through the window of their apartment. Cooking together. Doing things they enjoyed. Doing the dishes. Holding onto each other. 

One night, when Bea was just old enough to cook by herself, at about 10, she made her family pasta puttanesca. She didn't know the weight behind it, and she was proud. Violet smiled, and Klaus smiled, and Sunny smiled. 

And they ate and talked and laughed as a family. And Klaus ate his food without flinching, and Violet smelled the parsley and thought of Passover, and Sunny felt proud of all she had taught her baby sister.

That night they didn't think of elevators, islands, or eye doctor. They thought of each other, and their family was enough.

It was the little things.


End file.
